This Mortal Coil
by Ranguvar27
Summary: Fantasy AU. In a world full of magic and gods, a man makes a deal with Death: in exchange for immortality, he will kill those that have been brought back via necromancy. But when he meets a beautiful sorceress/healer, he suddenly finds himself willing to defy everything: even the gods.
1. A Deal is Struck

This Mortal Coil

Summary: Fantasy AU. In a world full of magic and gods, a man makes a deal with Death: in exchange for immortality, he will kill those that have been brought back via necromancy. But when he meets a beautiful sorceress/healer, he suddenly finds himself willing to defy everything: even the gods.

Characters: Nostalgia Critic, Linkara, Cinema Snob, Spoony, O/Cs, various cast members of Channel Awesome as the story progresses.

Warnings: Blanket R for violence, sex, and cursing

Pairing: Critic/OC, Linkara/Spoony/Insano

Disclaimer: I do not own any recognized characters.

Word Count: 1,186

* * *

Chapter One: A Deal is Struck

The city-state of Awesomia could be described in one word: fetid. The charming smell of the polluted river combined with the unwashed stench of the citizens was an aroma that could make even the strongest man's eyes water. The city itself was falling into disrepair, and every building slanted towards the Channel river at incredibly steep angles. Why they hadn't fallen in was due to one thing: Magic.

Awesomia was one of the Centers of the magical world, and on its streets gods, psychopomps, mages, and monsters rubbed shoulders with the ordinary citizens. It was a somewhat uneasy coexistence, but one people accepted.

Magic tended to run in families, and the more powerful mages had numerous children, hoping to pass their knowledge and skills on to their descendants. Those that could afford it sent their children away to the neighboring state of Haganstan to be taught by the sorcerer-goddess Diamanda.

* * *

In one particularly run down building, a man sat in a dusty room with a half empty whiskey bottle in one hand and a gun in the other. He was a tall, pale man just starting to go bald, and his dark hair was plastered to his skull with sweat. He was staring at a picture on the table. It showed him with his arms around two other men-obviously his brothers. One was older, with a friendly, open face and wearing a paperboy's hat. The other was the spitting image of the man in the room, save for the wicked smile on his face.

He set down his bottle and pulled off his glasses, rubbing his eyes with one hand as memories welled up. It had been years since he had seen either Robert or Gerrick. Doug Walker sighed as he recalled the bitter argument his twin had had with their older brother. Gerrick-or 'Guy', as everyone called him, had been delving more and more into the Black Arts, and Rob had gone ballistic. Their father had been a White Magic user, and had passed on his knowledge to his sons. Guy had found it all deadly dull, and begun to read up on some darker spells, which lead to both father and brother disowning him. Doug had tried to keep the peace between his brothers, but being the middle child(Guy was three hours younger than him), he was usually ignored, and when the arguments got particularly bad, the magic being blown around the room sent him diving for cover.

Three days ago, Doug had heard rumors that Rob had been killed in a Magic Duel. Frantic inquiries turned up nothing, and Doug fell into a deep despair. He had been sitting in the room for hours, alternating between drinking and staring down at the gun barrel, trying to work up the courage to place it in his mouth and pull the trigger.

"It would be a damn waste of time, if you ask me."

Doug jumped ten feet in the air at the deep voice behind him. He whirled, pointing his gun at the man that had appeared in the room. He was short, with slicked-back black hair, wearing a black suit and glasses. His feet were bare. The man smirked at the gun. "I really hope you don't intend to try to shoot me. It won't go well for you, Doug."

"OK, how the fuck did you get in here? I sealed the door with a locking spell. And how the fuck do you know my name?!"

The man laughed, leaning against the wall. "There isn't a lock made that can keep me out. As to how I know your name, I've had my eyes on you for a long time. I can tell you that Rob is alive. He hasn't met me yet."

Doug flew out of his chair and advanced on the man, placing the gun against his temple. "Start making sense, or I ventilate you."

The man sighed and batted the gun away. "Please, use your head for once. If you Look, you should be able to figure out who I am pretty fucking quickly."

Doug winced, not wanting to use his Sight. He took off his glasses and looked into the other man's eyes. Two seconds later, he reeled back, collapsing in a heap on the floor, his entire body shaking. "Y...you...You're...D...D..."

"Death. The Grim Reaper, The Scyther, blah blah blah." Death knelt next to Doug. "I know I'm not what you expected."

"You...could say that. You look like a film snob. So what, are you here to watch me die?"

Death chuckled, settling himself into the dusty chair. "Hardly. I've come here to offer you a deal. As a mage's son, I'm sure you know about life spans and ways to expand them, right?"

"...Yes."

"OK, so here's the thing. I don't mind that so much. Hell, a mortal wants more time to fight and fuck on this Earth, more power to 'em, I say. It's when they start trying to muscle in on MY territory that I get pissed. The necromancers and the...things that they bring back. Vile fucking creatures. But since they've died once already, I can't touch them. That's where you come in."

Doug glared at him. "I'm not about to go up against Ghouls and Necromancers! I may have Magic in my blood, but even the most rank Necro could turn my insides to pudding with a wave of his hand, that is if the Ghoul left anything!"

Death sighed. "If I may continue. I'll gift you with Immortality-nothing will be able to kill you...at least not permanently. Grave injuries may take longer to recover from, but the only thing that will be able to permanently kill you is me. You'll stay the same age you are now, and be able to heal from any minor injuries."

"And in exchange...?"

Death smiled grimly. "In exchange, you will kill Ghouls and Necros. They're multiplying like rabbits."

Doug sighed. "What should I use to kill them? Ghouls are pretty resilient to magic and bullets."

Death held out his hand, and the gun flew out of Doug's grasp. He watched as Death passed his hand over the gun before handing it back. "There. Your gun can kill anything now, and if you ever lose it, it will come back to you. Also, you'll never run out of bullets. How's your aim?"

In answer, Doug pointed the gun at a knot in the door and pulled the trigger. A hole appeared a hairs-breath away from the knot. "It's decent." He pocketed the gun. "OK, Snob, you've got a deal. But I want something else. Tell me if Gerrick is still alive."

"Snob. I haven't had anyone call me that before. I like it. Your twin is alive...after a fashion. I can't tell you any more." Death grinned and vanished, leaving Doug alone once more. He looked at the gun, then at the whiskey.

"What the hell have I gotten myself into?"


	2. At The Sign of the Black Falcon

This Mortal Coil

Summary: Fantasy AU. In a world full of magic and gods, a man makes a deal with Death: in exchange for immortality, he will kill those that have been brought back via necromancy. But when he meets a beautiful sorceress/healer, he suddenly finds himself willing to defy everything: even the gods.

Characters: Nostalgia Critic, Linkara, Cinema Snob, Spoony, Insano, O/Cs, various cast members of Channel Awesome as the story progresses.

Warnings: Blanket R for violence, sex, and cursing

Pairing: Critic/OC, Linkara/Spoony/Insano, past Critic/Chick

Disclaimer: I do not own any recognized characters.

Word Count: 2,596

* * *

Chapter Two: At The Sign of The Black Falcon

Awesomia hadn't changed much in seven years, Doug thought to himself. If anything, it had gotten more dirty and decrepit. He pulled his coat collar up, trying to blend in to the crowd as much as he could. If there was one thing he had learned, it was that the more normal and non-threatening he looked, the easier it was to infiltrate a Necro's lair. Doug had fashioned the perfect disguise for himself-a white shirt, black jacket and jeans, a half-tied tie, and a black cap. He had even given himself a new name-Nostalgia Critic. He looked harmless, as if a stiff wind could knock him over.

Since he had made his bargain with Death, Critic had killed fifteen Ghouls and twelve Necromancers. He had been shot, stabbed, drowned, set on fire, and in one memorable case, been nearly sliced in half by a battle-axe wielded by a very large Ghoul. That last one had taken days to recover from. He hated his job sometimes.

Critic looked down at the scrap of paper in his hands. It was a note written in precise handwriting. 'Come to the Black Falcon. I have information that may interest you.' The note was unsigned, but there was a sun and stars insignia on the bottom that Critic recognized as belonging to a sect of Astrologers and Alchemists. So here he was, wandering the streets in the hopes that the note would pay off.

The Black Falcon was a rundown old pub right on the Channel, and Critic's nose wrinkled at the lovely aroma of shit coming off the river. He pushed the door open and stepped inside, blinking in the dim light. The pub consisted of the usual assortment of mages, mortals, and monsters, every one of them looking as though they could break Critic in half with their pinkies-or in the mages' cases, with a single gesture. Automatically, he raised his right arm, revealing the hooded skull tattooed on his wrist. A respectful silence fell, and a young blond man threaded through the tables towards him. "G...good evening, Sir. How may I help a Disciple of the Reaper?" He had a distinct accent.

Critic passed him the note. "I'm looking for the man that wrote this. Is he here?" The man perused the note, then pointed to a table in the back. "Thank you...?"

"Mat, but everyone calls me Film Brain."

"Why?"

Film Brain shrugged. "I love talking about movies."

Critic grinned. "Me too." He made his way to the back of the room, aware that all eyes were on him. "You the guy that sent me the note?"

The man looked to be in his late twenties, and was wearing a brown hat, vest, shirt, and pants. He wore glasses, and Critic could see a holster strapped to his waist and what looked like a flintlock pistol tucked inside. "That's me. Folks call me Linkara. Please, sit."

Critic slid into the booth opposite him, and that was when he noticed the other person sitting next to Linkara, his face half hidden in shadows. This one was pale, with long dark hair and eyes that were never still. His hands were in his lap, and he was muttering so rapidly that Critic could only catch fragments. "No, not now _SCIENCE_ stop it not now _I WILL BE VICTORIOUS_ stoppit not now Linkara needs us..." His voice alternated between low and subdued and manically high-pitched.

Linkara placed a hand on top of his. "Spoony, relax. It's OK, I'm here." He looked over at Critic. "He used to be one of the best Alchemists in the world, and then one of his experiments went wrong. I'm...well, I guess you could say I'm his caretaker."

Critic winced in sympathy. "You a Mage or Mortal?"

"Mage. My specialty is Transfiguration, but I've done a few other things as well." Linkara leaned back in the booth, eying Critic. "I'm also pretty good at getting a read on people. But you...it's like there's something blocking me. Is that just a product of you being a Disciple?"

"Maybe. Look, I'm not in any mood for friendly chitchat, OK? Did you send me this note?" He passed it over, and Linkara glanced at it.

"Yep." Critic glared at him, and he sighed. "I've got a lot of friends in this city, and one of them told me that he might have possibly seen someone that looks exactly like you in Shadow Town the other day."

"And just why couldn't this friend of yours deliver the message himself?"

Linkara scoffed. "It'd be kind of hard, seeing as how he's a ghost. If you want to talk to him, he haunts the old Grey Lady Club on Whittier."

Critic snorted in derisive laughter. "Oh yeah, me talking to a ghost. Because ghosts and Disciples just get along like peanut butter and jelly."

"I love peanut butter and jelly _I DON'T IT'S GROSS_ Will you please stop shouting _Sorry is this better_ yes _blue_ red _blue_ red _lalala_..." Spoony took a deep, shuddering breath, then fell silent. Critic blinked at him, then turned back to Linkara.

"Well...umm..are you sure this friend of yours saw G...my brother?"

"Positive. He described him down to the smoking jacket he had on."

Critic sighed. "Sounds like him. He wore that thing constantly. He's a Necro, isn't he?"

Linkara shook his head. "No, from what Harvey-my friend-gathered, your brother is a Black Mage. A pretty powerful one."

Critic's entire body slumped. "Oh...shit."

"Yeah. I don't dare go up against him. Even at my full power, he could swat me like a bug. But you might have a chance."

"Fuck that! Look, just because I can't die doesn't mean I can't be hurt, and if he's as powerful as you claim, he could do all sorts of horrid things to me."

Spoony chuckled, looking at Critic for the first time. "We're not asking you to go up against your brother! We want to hire you as a bodyguard."

Critic blinked, then burst out laughing. "OK, one, I'm a fucking Disciple, not a bodyguard. Two, the wave of power coming off that gun in Linkara's holster is making my neck hairs stand up. Three, if you're the Spoony I think you are, don't you have enough power to level this pub? Why the fuck would you two need guarding?"

"_We don't need it, Disciple! A friend of ours does."_

"Shut up, Insano. Anyway, it's not for Linkara or me...us. We can handle ourselves if it came down to a Duel. Linkara, show him."

Linkara pulled what looked like a flat disc out of his pocket and placed it on the table. He waved his hand, and a three dimensional image materialized. It was of a young woman with flame-red hair and dark green eyes. She was wearing a dark blue shirt and jeans, and was smiling at something just off-screen. "This is Layla Green. She's twenty eight, no parents or family. She's got an eidetic memory, and a knack for languages. Her parents were both Class A Mages, so as you can imagine, she's pretty damn powerful. She also happens to be a Healer."

Critic's jaw dropped. "You're shitting me. There hasn't been a Healer in..."

"_Seven hundred years,"_ Insano replied. _"Precisely why we think your brother is so interested in her. Healers can defy Death himself, without all the pesky side effects of necromancy. If she fell into the wrong hands-who knows what could happen." _

"Are you forgetting the part where I WORK FOR DEATH? He's not likely to be too thrilled if his best Disciple starts guarding a Healer!"

Linkara looked surprised. "There's more than one of you guys?"

"Yes. It's usually no more than four to five at one time. There's me, this guy named Angry Joe, a gal that calls herself Nostalgia Chick who was damn good in bed, and two that constantly stroke and fondle each other named Elisa and Paw. I think they might have been a married couple. The world's a big fucking place, it's going to take more than one of us to ferret out all the Necros and Ghouls. But back to this Healer chick. Why me?"

"Because you're the best, like you said. You're the son of a Class A White Mage, you've got Immortality, and you know how to blend in. Plus you can handle yourself in a fight," Linkara said, arms crossed in front of his chest. "And you're also the only one that knows just how dangerous your brother is. If it's remittance you're worried about, don't. Both Spoony and I have more than enough money."

"It's not the money, it's the fact that my boss is very strict. Anything or anyone that changes death or brings back those that should be dead or dying has to be killed, along with whatever creatures are brought back through necromancy or any other magical means. It's the one unbreakable rule. I disobey, and it's True Death for me, with the added bonus of feeling all the ways I died. So I'm sorry, but you're going to have to find someone else." Critic started to rise, and Linkara glared at him helplessly.

"You are our last hope! Please, just this once can't you bend the rule? She hasn't brought anyone back! All she's done is heal some people. That's all. Please...help us."

Critic groaned, then sat back down. "I had better not come to regret this. Where is she?"

"Spoony's got her hidden in a safe place. He'll bring her over to you tomorrow. I trust your residence is well warded?"

"Not even an ant could get through without setting off alarms." He looked from one face to another, then heaved a sigh of resignation. "Fine, but if I find out she's Resurrected ANYONE, I will do my Job."

"_That's fair enough, Disciple,"_ Insano giggled. _"Spoony finds it a bit tasteless, but I think your integrity is quite refreshing. Linkara?"_

Linkara took a deep breath and slowly let it out. "Agreed. Now that that has been settled, I think we're done here." He pocketed the disc, and stuck out his hand. "Pleasure doing business with you, Critic."

Critic shook their hands and left the Black Falcon.

Spoony turned to Linkara. "Did we do the right thing, babe?"

Linkara smiled, kissing him gently on the lips. "We did. I can feel it."

Critic turned up one street and down another, dodging oil-soaked puddles and falling debris with nearly balletic ease. It didn't take him long to reach his destination: a boarded up bar with the faded image of a woman in a very revealing grey dress in the window. He pushed at the boards that covered the door, and they split apart, leaving a hole big enough for him to walk through.

Critic stepped inside, and the temperature dropped like a stone. The lights began to pulsate rapidly, creating a strobe effect, and something howled in the darkness. Dusty glasses toppled from the shelves in front of him, shattering like bombs on the tile floor. "Will you stop that?"

The temperature rose a bit, and a voice came from the direction of the howling. "What, you got no appreciation for theater?"

"I have plenty of appreciation for theater, but I need to talk to you, and I'd prefer it if you were corporeal."

The ghost sighed, causing dust motes to stir. "Fine." Critic watched as he materialized, revealing a man of fifty-ish in a black suit and fedora and holding a partly burnt cigarette in his right hand. "Name's Harvey. Who are you?"

"I'm called the Nostalgia Cr..." Critic ducked as Harvey sent a stool flying at his head.

"GET THE HELL OUT OF HERE, DISCIPLE! I AIN'T BREAKING ANY OF DEATH'S LAWS!" The temperature plummeted again, and Critic shivered.

"I'm not here to send you on! I swear! I'm here because Linkara told me you saw my brother!"

Harvey raised an eyebrow at him, and the temperature rose to slightly above Antarctica. "On the level?"

"I swear by the Scythe, I have no intention of making you leave." He sighed in relief as the room became bearable. "So did you see him?"

Harvey sighed. "Yeah, a few days ago. I'm not bound to this place, so I can come and go as I please. I just like it cuz it reminds me of joints I used to sing at when I was still breathin'. Anyway, I was in Shadow Town and I seen this guy looks exactly like you coming out of the Apothecary."

"Did you see what he bought?"

"Nope, but from what I know about the guy, it probably wasn't anything good. By the way, how do you know the Kid?"

"He and his...friends...hired me to be a bodyguard for someone named Layla Green. Supposedly she's a Healer, I have to protect her, and all that shit."

Harvey whistled, an odd and eerie sound. "Tough gig. You met the dame yet?"

"No, not yet. Can you tell me anything else about my brother?"

"Sorry."

Critic nodded. "OK, fade away. I'll see myself out and close the door back up."

Harvey started to fade. "Hey listen, next time you see Linkara, tell him to come visit me. It's been a while since we chatted."

"Will do."

In an apartment in a cleaner part of the city(in that there was less garbage littering the streets and the people had access to showers once in a while), a young woman with red hair sat cross-legged on a bare wooden floor, her eyes closed in meditation. She had on a green shirt and jean shorts, and no shoes. Her hair was loose, and blew about her face as if governed by a breeze all its own. The furniture in the room was floating in the air, and there was a slight sheen of sweat on Layla's face.

A knock at the door, and the furniture dropped down with a light 'thud'. Layla sighed, stretched, and opened her eyes in one movement before clambering to her feet and answering the knock. "Spoony?"

"Yeah, it's me. We found someone to watch you. A Disciple."

Layla scoffed. "So in other words, someone that will kill me themselves if I perform a Resurrection. Got it."

"We didn't have a choice, Layla. Any Mage we asked would want to use your power for their own gain. And what's the old saying? 'The enemy of my enemy..'"

"Is my friend. When do I meet the Disciple?"

"Tomorrow. Right now though, you need to get some sleep. You look exhausted."

Layla smiled and pecked his cheek. "You know, if both you and Insano weren't so over the moon for Linkara, I'd jump your bones."

"_I am NOT 'over the moon' for that uptight, goody two shoes! He's annoying, and heroic, and..." _

"The man both you and Spoony would die for. Or...well, since you share one body, you could both die...y'know, you have a weird triangle going on."

Spoony laughed. "Don't we know it. Get some rest, Layla. We've got a long journey tomorrow."


	3. Meetings and Impressions

Chapter Three: Meetings and Impressions

Critic stared into his coffee, hands curled around the porcelain mug in an attempt to warm himself. This was the second time this month the heat in his apartment had been shut off. While it was true that he didn't feel the cold as badly as he used to before he became a Disciple, the fact remained that he still preferred his living quarters not resemble an igloo. There was also the fact that his job didn't exactly pay...at all. Death really didn't have a concept of money, and the one time Critic had broached the idea of monetary compensation to his Boss, he had been laughed out of Death's Office. So in order to keep himself from starving(not something he fancied, since his immortality would keep him alive even if he was a walking skeleton), he began to take on odd jobs here and there-eliminating a rogue pack of pixies, acting as a guide for tourists dumb and/or suicidal enough to want to visit the seedier parts of Awesomia, and once in a while helping his cousin Dominic at his bar, the Pixel Palace.

That was where he was now, waiting for Spoony to arrive with Miss Layla Green. Dominic, an immigrant from Ireland, had declared his bar a neutral zone, a rarity in the city. Fans in the ceiling dispelled any magical auras, and Dominic was not shy about throwing anybody who violated Neutrality out on their ass. Of course, being half-banshee also helped to discourage any ruffians. "You doin' OK, Douglas?"

Critic sighed. "You know you're the only one that calls me that?"

Dominic nodded. "Yeah, I know. I'm a bit worried about ya. You know you're not going to find G..."

"Don't say his name!" Critic yelled. Dominic blinked at him, and Critic sighed, taking a sip of his coffee. "Good God, Dominic, what the fuck is in this?"

"Whiskey. Look, Douglas, you're not going to find your twin unless he wants to be found. Same with Robert. In your twin's case, it's because you know what a twisted fuck he was before all this. With Robert..." Dominic let the sentence hang in the air, unfinished, and Critic felt tears sting his eyes.

"I never should have taken his side. He...knew just how to manipulate me into going against Rob, even though I knew it was wrong. And because of him, I may never have a family again."

"What am I, chopped liver?"

Critic glared at him. "I meant..."

Dominic smiled and patted his shoulder. "Relax, Douglas, I know what you meant. I keep hoping you and Rob will reunite someday. I know there probably won't be a tearful reconciliation, but..." Dominic shrugged, and Critic took a gulp of the whiskey-laced coffee.

"Yeah."

There was a ringing sound as the front door opened, causing the bell that Dominic had placed above it to move. Critic turned around on the bar stool, watching as two people walked in. He recognized Spoony, and guessed that the rather buxom red head with him was probably Miss Green. She had on a long sleeved blue shirt and a red skirt that stopped just above her knees.

Dominic spoke up, all business. "Welcome to the Pixel Palace, gentlemen and Milady. Is there anything I can get for the three of ya?"

Spoony looked surprised for a brief second, then shook his head. "No thanks, we're here to talk to Critic."

Miss Green spoke up, her voice surprisingly smoky. "I'll take a whiskey, neat." Dominic nodded, and poured her drink. She raised the glass at him in salute. "Slainte."

"Same to you, Milady. Well, I've got to go polish the tables." He moved off. Layla took a large gulp of whiskey, then faced Critic.

"You don't look like much, I gotta say. Scrawny fucker, aren't you?"

Critic felt his hackles rise. "Well, pardon the fuck out of me for not looking like a goddam body builder. Are you forgetting that this 'scrawny fucker' can take your life away like that?" He snapped his fingers, and Layla growled at him.

"Oh, I'm so scared. Goddam fucking bureaucrats, Disciples. Oh no, someone brought back a loved one! We have to kill them!"

Critic laughed derisively. "You ignorant little shit. Have you ever seen a Ghoul? They're NOT the same people they were when they were alive. Necromancy and...whatever the fuck it is you do are complete opposites. Come to think of it, what can you do? Spoony told me you're a Healer, but I think that's a bunch of bullshit."

Insano took over. _"Spoony wouldn't lie!" _

Critic rolled his eyes. "I'm not saying he would, but maybe he misheard. Mages can have healing powers without being Healers. I'm just saying, prove it."

Spoony sighed. "How? I don't have any weapons on me, and this is a Neutral Zone, so I can't use magic."

Layla looked over at Dominic. "Could you come over here a moment, please?"

"Certainly, Milady. What can I do for you?"

Layla smiled at him. "Are you a banshee?"

"Half, Milady. Which means my screech isn't instantly fatal. Why?"

Layla sighed. "Could you screech at me? I need to prove to numbnuts here(she pointed to Critic, earning a "HEY!" in response) that I am what I say I am. Banshee screeches are generally immune to most healing spells, right?"

Dominic looked worried. "Yes, but, Milady...I..."

"Please?"

Dominic sighed in resignation. "Fine. You lot, fingers in your ears." Critic and Spoony plugged up their ears, and Dominic took a deep breath, then opened his mouth wide. The screech began, a low sound at first, then building and building until it was a high, wailing sound that seemed to double and treble with echoes. Layla was convulsing, blood pouring from her eyes, ears, mouth, and nose. Dominic stopped, and she toppled off her stool, landing in a heap on the floor.

Critic knelt down and turned her over. "See, what did I..." his eyes widened in disbelief. "Tell you." The blood had vanished. Layla's body shuddered, and she took a long, deep breath before opening her eyes.

"Now do you believe me?"

Critic grinned at her. "I suppose I'll have to, Miss Green. My apologies." He helped her to her feet, and she grinned back.

"You know, you're not as big an asshole as I thought."

Critic chuckled. "Yes I am. But I said I'd watch out for you, and that's what I intend to do. So long as you don't bring anyone back from the dead."

* * *

A small man scurried down a dark alley, wringing his hands in glee. "Oh, he's going to be so proud of me! So proud!" He stopped in front of a warped, rotten door that had once been painted a bright blue but was now black with dried blood. There was a slit in the door just above the man's eye level. He shivered all over, then knocked: two light taps followed by one quick rap.

There was a creaking sound, and the slit opened, revealing a pair of murky red eyes. The eyes looked down, and the man waved. The slot closed, and after a few seconds the door opened, the rusty metal hinges wailing like banshees. A gorilla of a man filled the empty frame. "Whaddaya want, Mickey?"

Mickey gulped. "I wanna see him. I got news he's gonna want to hear." He took a flask from his hip pocket and swallowed a dose of liquid courage. "And I ain't leaving until I get to see him."

The gorilla gave him the once-over, then stepped aside. "OK. But this had better be legit. He wasn't too happy the last time, remember?" Mickey's teeth chattered in fear.

"Honest, Tom, this is on the level. Why would I lie?"

"That's a very good question."

Mickey jumped twenty feet in the air as Gerrick 'Guy' Walker materialized in front of him, a wicked smile on his face. "B..Boss...umm...I..."

Guy continued to smile, speaking in a pleasant, conversational tone. "After all, it's not as though you lied to me many, many times before. You gnomes, always so hard to get a handle on. But you remember what happened last time. Of course you do. So, if you're here to tell me another lie, don't bother." He raised his left hand, palm up, and dark lightning crackled in his fingertips. "I'll make it permanent this time."

Mickey's words came out in a horrified rush. "I saw your twin coming outta the Palace with this really hot chick and that weird alchemist dude and I think she might be the Healer and Critic's keeping an eye on her for some reason and please don't kill me I'm telling you the truth I swear!"

Guy lowered his hand, grinning in a way that reminded Mickey of a shark. "Dear Doug is back in town, and he didn't even try to find his own twin for a touching and tearful reunion? Dear me. Tom, see to it that Mickey is escorted out of here safely. I've got some business to attend to."

Guy strolled away down the corridor, brushing by Mickey, who shivered as the black aura passed over him. He stopped in front of a large black door with runes carved into it. Guy pressed his fingers into the topmost rune, then traced a pattern in the door, mumbling under his breath. The door opened, and Guy stepped into the tiny cell behind the door, smiling benignly at its occupant.

Rob was sitting on the cold metal floor. His hands and feet were shackled to the wall with silver cuffs and chains, and around his neck was a silver collar carved with runic symbols. He looked thin and underfed, but his eyes burned with rage as he looked up at his brother. "Guy, I swear by my Soul if you don't let me out...!"

Guy giggled madly. "You'll what, turn me into a toad? You couldn't even pull a rabbit out of a hat. I don't know why you keep trying to get free. I'm the only one that can take the cuffs off." He knelt in front of Rob, pressing hard on one of the runes on his collar. Rob screamed in pain. "All those times you said you were better than me, all those times you tried to keep me from finding out the truth...and now you're at my mercy. How humiliating for you."

"What do you want, Gerrick?"

Guy looked furious, and wrapped his hands around Rob's throat,pressing down on every rune at once. "DON'T CALL ME THAT! NEVER CALL ME THAT!"

Rob convulsed in pain, screaming at the magical onslaught. Guy removed his hands, and smiled. "See what you made me do? Silly me, losing my temper. I came to tell you that our dear brother is back in town! Isn't that just delightful?"

Rob blinked. "Doug's back? Where? When?"

"Mickey spotted him coming out of cousin Dominic's bar with some other people, one of whom may just be the Healer I've been looking for. I think I should pay a visit to Dominic."

Rob chuckled. "And if you did visit, would you keep to Neutrality? You may be powerful, but a banshee screech could still give you a massive headache. Even if Dominic isn't a full blood banshee."

"Very true. I suppose I'll talk to him some other time. Goodnight for now, dear Robert. I do hope you have pleasant dreams." He left, sealing the door behind him, and Rob slumped, ignoring the aches and pains.

He had been his brother's prisoner for six months now, and it looked like he was never going to get out. Rob had sorely underestimated just how strong Guy had become, and their Duel had left him half-dead. He had passed out, and when he came to, he was in this cell, shackled to the wall with silver-the one thing that could suppress a Mage's magic. He shivered, dreading what would happen if Doug got into a Duel with him. His brother had never been too good at combat magic, preferring to use his skills in other ways. Guy would kill him in seconds.

Rob curled up as best as he could and went to sleep, crying quietly.

* * *

"I know it doesn't look like much, but it's home," Critic said, pushing open the front door to his apartment. Layla stepped in, wrapping her arms around herself.

"It's freezing!"

"Oh. Right. I...well, I don't really feel the cold or heat like I used to. Side effects of being...what I am. I should probably try to remember that others aren't...I've got a jacket in my closet you can borrow." He rushed into the bedroom, returning with a thick wool coat. "Here. It should keep you warm enough."

Layla wrapped herself in the coat, then sat down on the couch. "So what are your Skills?"

Critic laughed once. "You mean besides the ones most Disciples have? I'm brilliant at Protective Magics, I can read a person's history from an item they owned, I've got some training in combative magic-but I'm not very good at that, and I'm slightly telekinetic."

"Slightly?"

Critic sighed. "If I concentrate real hard, I can make medium sized objects move. Gives me one fuck of a headache after, though. How about you?" His jaw dropped when his coffee table, television, and easy chair floated up to the ceiling. "Umm...I more meant what Skills do you have. I mean, besides the Healing."

"Protective Magics, like you, Earth Magics-I can make things grow, I'm good with animals, Telekinesis, as you saw, some Telepathy, Languages, and I've got an eidetic memory. Of course, that last one isn't magical per se."

Critic nodded. "Yes, I figured." He sighed. "We need to make sleeping arrangements, since I've only got the one bed, and it's barely big enough for me. There's the couch, but I don't know how comfy you'll be on it or what you're used to sleeping on..."

"The couch will be fine, Critic. I appreciate what you're doing for me." Layla grinned at him. "Tell you what. I'll make dinner as a gesture of thanks."

"Oh you don't have to..." Critic fell silent at Layla's wide eyes. "Fine, just stop with the puppy dog look."

"OK!" Layla giggled, and Critic shook his head.

This was going to be an interesting job.


	4. Converges and Conferences

Chapter Four: Converges and Conferences

A few miles away from Critic's home, a ferry was pulling into one of many docks that lined the Channel. On it was the usual pastiche of passengers-a few tourists, some mages, any creatures that could handle crossing water, and a young woman wearing a black shirt and black pants with a sword-belt. She was standing by the rail, hooded eyes gazing at the buildings as they came into view. Things hadn't changed much, she thought. She wondered if she was doing the right thing, coming back here.

"Hey cutie."

She turned, glaring up at the ugly bastard that stood behind her. Lindsay couldn't be sure, but it looked like he had some troll in his blood. She groaned inwardly, cursing the genetics that made her look like a helpless little waif to so many. Automatically, her hand fell to her hip, resting on her sword hilt. "What did you call me?"

The brute smiled, showing teeth that would send a dentist into fits. "You wanna get a drink when we disembark?" He leered at her, and Lindsay didn't have to hear the rest of the sentence. She tightened her grip on the hilt.

"Get out of my face, or I make you uglier than you already are."

The troll laughed, a muddy, gurgling sound. "You're a little puny to be threatening me, girly. What's to stop me from simply taking what I want right here?"

Lindsay didn't even tremble. She drew her sword and pointed it at his stomach. "You mean besides the fact that I could gut you before you even had the chance? This." She pulled down her shirt, revealing the hooded skull tattooed onto her shoulder. "You know what happens when you threaten a Disciple, right?"

The troll seemed to shrink several inches. "M...my apologies, Miss! I didn't know." He backed away, still babbling apologies, and Lindsay re-sheathed her sword, trying not to grin. Men were all the same, no matter what species they belonged to.

The ferry docked, and Lindsay disembarked, heading up and down narrow streets. She didn't realize where she was going until she found herself standing in front of a building she had not been to in years. On reflex, she Looked up at the second story window, smiling. 'He still has the wards up.' She turned her Sight off and entered the building, heading straight for Critic's apartment. After a moment of doubt, she steeled herself and knocked on the door.

Lindsay expected to see Critic open the door. Instead, it was opened by a rather busty red head in a sweater that left little to the imagination, her hair tousled as if she had just woke up. "Hello?"

Chick had only been speechless once in her life, when she had realized a Necro had brought back his dead daughter to use as a sex slave. This was different though-she could feel the hot flush of embarrassment creeping up her face. "Um...I...must have the wrong apartment. I was looking for..." she caught movement behind the woman. "Critic! Umm..I can see I caught you at a bad time, nice to see you again!" She turned and ran down the hall, cursing herself for letting emotions get the best of her.

"Chick! Chick! Nostalgia Chick! LINDSAY, WAIT." Critic caught up with her, taking her arm to halt her. "Let me explain."

"Explain what? We had a fling once, it ended, and you moved on to Busty Redhead." Chick shrugged. "It happens."

Critic looked flustered. "It's not like that. She's not...we're not like that. I'm guarding her."

"From what? Virginity? If I had to guess, she's left that behind a long time ago."

"Haha. Come back to the apartment, and I'll explain everything." He gave her the puppy-dog eyes, and she groaned.

"Fine! But it had better be a good explanation."

Ten minutes later, Chick was staring slack-jawed at Critic. Layla had shyly introduced herself and was now sitting in a lotus position on the floor, her gaze turned inward. Chick looked over at her, then back to Critic. "So let me see if I got this. She's a Healer, someone who can bring back people to true life. An alchemist with a split personality and his Mage-boyfriend hired you to watch her because your insane twin brother, who is now a Black Mage, will want to use her power to basically become a god. So they hired you, whose job it is to make sure none of Death's Laws are broken, to guard a woman that, by her very existence, defies a great number of them. That about right?"

Critic nodded. "Yes."

Chick blinked, then drained her coffee, not even wincing at the bitter taste. "You realize when the Boss finds out about this, he's going to give you a True Death? This goes beyond letting a Necro slip by you, Critic. That woman is an anomaly."

Critic slammed his hand down on the table. "I know that, damn it!" He sighed deeply. "I know, but I gave my word to protect her. And between the Boss and my brother, I'll take the one that isn't an insane death-dealer." He buried his head in his hands. "God, what have I gotten myself into?"

"Deep shit."

Chick and Critic started at Layla's voice. She was still in the same position as before, and Chick could see a slight haze shimmering in the air around her. "Were you listening to that?"

"Yes. I'm meditating, not deaf. And while I don't know what Critic's twin is truly capable of, nor do I wish to know, I can tell you that I am not a helpless damsel. It's not just people I can bring to life if I want. I've made a deal that I will not perform the Resurrection Spell in Critic's presence, since I do understand he has a job." She opened her eyes and stared at Lindsay. "The same one as you, actually. And you are not bound by any promise. Why didn't you just kill me when Critic told you my Skill?"

Lindsay glared at her. "Because if I draw my weapon here, it will be seen as a violation of the Protective Spells Critic's cast, and combined with the Protective Spell you just silently cast, I'll end up being blasted all the way back to Comicrona." She sighed. "And before you ask, no, I won't attack you when you're not in the apartment either. It's true you pretty much should not exist, but I'm a Disciple, not a murderer." She finished her coffee, then smiled at Critic. "Dominic still in town?" He nodded, and she grinned in relief. "Good, I could use a drink. See you around, Critic. Miss Green...goodbye."

After she left, Critic turned to Layla. "Am I really in deep shit?"

"You could say that."

* * *

High above the roofs of Awesomia, in a place that was not really a place, a man in a black suit and black-rimmed glasses sat in a pristine white office, paging through a thick book that was chained to the desk. The only ornamentation in the office was a rather poorly done painting of a ship at sunset. There was no sound save for the rustle of pages as Death turned another page in his Book.

A shadow fell over the Book, and Death glanced up at Fate. She was in her Maiden guise, and he bit back a smile at the blue hair. "Can I help you?"

"The Healer, Layla Green."

Death nodded. "What about her?"

"Your Disciple is guarding her."

Death rolled his eyes. "Yes, thank you, I knew that already."

Fate conjured up her Web, lighting up two threads-one of gold and one of green. "Look." She waved her hand, and the two threads began to move, then converged, forming one unbreakable thread. "Their fates are intertwined."

Death pulled the Web closer, peering intently at it. "What about this black thread?"

Fate looked worried. "That I'm not sure of. It starts to merge with Layla's thread, but then it breaks off without warning."

"Thank you for clearing that up, Clotho."

Fate laughed. "Clotho? You haven't called me that in a few hundred millenia, Thanatos."

"I'm feeling nostalgic. So what am I supposed to do?"

"What all of us are doing. Watch and wait."

* * *

Layla stretched like a cat, yawning as she came out of her semi-trance. Critic tried to ignore what the sweater she was wearing did to her already ample bust, but she could see the small flush of heat on his face. "Do you find me attractive?"

He blushed deeper, and Layla smiled. "I...well, a guy would have to be blind to not notice your...assets."

"That's not what I asked. I asked if you personally found me attractive." Layla said, getting to her feet and heading into the kitchen. She took a carton of orange juice out of the fridge. "Cups?" Critic pointed to the cupboard behind her. "Thanks. So, do you?"

"Yeah, I do. But I'm not attracted to you. You're a mild inconvenience, nothing more. Once everything's been resolved, Spoony can pay me what he feels is my due, and we'll part ways, hopefully to never meet again."

Layla grinned at him. "You know, you're the first guy I've met that didn't immediately try to sweet talk me into his bed?" She laughed. "Well, besides Linkara, but then again I'm not exactly his type. Though judging by the young woman that was here earlier, I might not be your type either."

Critic laughed. "You mean Nostalgia Chick? Trust me, there's nothing there anymore. We worked together on a case, and things got pretty hot and heavy. I respect her as a fellow Disciple and friend, but neither of us want to relive the past."

Layla nodded in understanding, and Critic smiled back at her. "Miss Green..."

"Layla."

Critic rolled his eyes. "Miss Green, you said earlier that it wasn't just people you could bring back. Care to elaborate on that?"

Layla tried not to giggle at how distant he was being. "You mean can I bring dead animals back? Only if they're newly dead. Don't ask me to revive the dog you lost as a kid."

Critic shook his head. "I was thinking about plants."

"Oh yeah, easily. Why, do you not have a green thumb?"

Critic snorted. "You might say that. I could kill a plastic plant. But the reason I asked is because of this." He walked over to the window and gently lifted a small pot off the sill. Inside was a tiny rosebush with thorns and stems, but no roses. Critic placed it on the table. "Rob gave that to me for my seventh birthday, and every year it would put forth three sets of roses. Red for me, white for Rob, and dark blue for my brother. It hasn't had a bloom now in eight years. I've tried everything." He gently ran his finger over the thorns, not even wincing as he was pricked. "I keep thinking, maybe if I can make just one bud appear, then that means my family has a chance to reconcile. But I know that probably won't happen. My twin...he was already insane before he became whatever he is, and Rob was the one to throw me out." He hung his head, vision doubling as he teared up. Then he felt a gentle hand on his back.

Layla passed her hand over the rose bush, and a green light flowed from her palm. At first, nothing happened, but then a blood red rose appeared on a stem. "I can't bring your brothers' flowers back, but will this do for now?"

Critic couldn't speak. He just nodded, staring at the rose while Layla gently rubbed his back.


	5. A Rose E'er Blooming

Chapter Five: A Rose E'er Blooming

Critic kept staring at the rose, trying not to show how much he was hurting. His chest hitched, and he clenched his fists hard enough to draw blood. Layla wasn't saying a word, but Critic could still feel her hand resting lightly on his back.

He was so tired of everything. Tired of not knowing what happened to Rob. Tired of having to carry the burden of his insane twin. Tired of reliving the same arguments in his head over and over. "I...I.."

Layla hesitated for a second, then put her arm around him. Critic turned to face her, and the honest sympathy and compassion in her eyes overwhelmed him. He fell forward, sobbing harder than he ever had in his life. It was as if all his emotions of the past eight years were coming out in a flood. Layla held him, letting his tears soak her shirt.

It seemed like hours had passed when Critic finally stopped. His eyes were red and swollen, his chest hurt, and he was exhausted. But for the first time in a very long time, the feeling of being smothered was gone.

"Critic, I'm sorry. If I had known..." Layla began, and Critic shook his head.

"No, don't apologize. I kept everything bottled up for so long, and after I became a Disciple, it was just easier to push my emotions even further away. You can't really be an efficient killer if you're sobbing over your kills."

Layla half-smiled. "I thought Disciples didn't think of themselves as killers, just 'Keepers of the Natural Order.'" Critic glared at her, and she sighed. "Sorry, bad choice of words. I sometimes tend to act before I think."

Critic chuckled. "Me and thee, Layla. I guess we're more alike than I thought. Rob was always the most level headed of the three of us." He looked down at his folded hands, speaking in a low voice. " My brother and I were always getting in trouble and Rob was there getting us out. He took care of us after our parents died in a Duel. His Skill was Calming Spells and healing. He was my idol, and if he knew what I've become, he'd hate me."

Layla rubbed his back. "I don't know your brother, but I don't think he would hate you. Necros aren't exactly the most stable of people, right?"

"Yeah, but Rob...he looked for the good in everyone. What my Boss didn't tell me was that not all Necros are the same. While some are raising the dead for their own gain, there's some that are just trying to bring back their loved ones. I've had Necros throw themselves over the bodies of their Ghouls and beg me to let them live. And all the while the Ghouls are trying to bite chunks out of their flesh." He looked over at her. "Ghouls are just shells of what they used to be. They have no memory of their past lives." He took a deep breath, remembering. "My very first job was a little girl that had died in a car crash. The father couldn't handle it, and cast the Revival Spell. The funny thing is, he was a low-class Mage, never done anything larger than a simple transfiguration. But Death's Law is immutable. Once dead, that's it. It doesn't matter how young or old you are, there's no returning and no second chances. I had to shoot a six year old girl in the head. And there's no mercy for those that cast the Spell, no matter if it's the only time they will ever use it. I got blind drunk after that job, and was ready to just quit right then and there."

"Why didn't you?"

"I don't know. I think I wanted to prove to myself that I could actually handle whatever was thrown at me. Over the years, I've learned to shut down while I'm working. But sometimes it can be very nice to have a cousin that runs a bar."

Layla gave him a one armed hug, and he leaned into it, sighing. There was a long, comfortable silence that was broken by the phone ringing. Critic stood and went to answer it. "Hello?"

Dominic's voice came over the line, sounding rather cheerful. "Douglas, I was wondering if perhaps you could come over to the Palace for a moment? I've got something very important to tell you."

Critic immediately felt his hackles rise. Dominic was never this peppy. At most, he could be drily humorous. Something was seriously wrong. "Of course, Dominic. I'll be there as soon as I can. Should I bring anything?"

"No, no need. I'm sure things will be well looked after." Dominic hung up, and Critic placed the phone back in the cradle, then looked over his shoulder at Layla.

"How powerful are your Protective Spells?"

"Pretty strong, why?"

He ran his hands through his hair. "Good. I've got to go to the Pixel Palace. Once I'm gone, cast your Spell. It should reinforce the Wards I've already got up. And don't let anyone in until I get back."

"How will I know it's you?"

"The Wards won't let anyone else in but me. I should be back soon. I hope." He slipped his gun in his pocket and headed for the door. "Lock this door behind me." Layla nodded, and he headed out.

* * *

Dominic kept cutting glances towards the door, trying not to show the person sitting at the bar how utterly scared he was. "He...he should be along soon enough."

"I'm so happy to hear that. Won't it be wonderful, a reunion with my dear twin, and our cousin here to witness the happy moment."

"Y...yes, quite wonderful, but you gave your Word that..."

Dominic felt his blood turn to ice as Guy smiled benignly at him. "Dominic, I would not violate Neutrality for all the world!" He turned as the bell above the door rang, and Critic came in.

"Dominic, what...oh my fucking god." Critic stopped short, and Guy grinned at him.

"Why Doug, I must say, you're looking like shit." Critic kept staring, and Guy laughed. "Now I know what you're thinking. 'Why, it's my long lost twin brother, and doesn't he just look so very handsome?' Why yes. Yes I am. Don't I get a greeting? A hello, a 'where have you been for the past decade', anything?"

Critic couldn't speak. He kept staring at Guy, trying not to shake at the Dark Aura he could feel coming off his twin in waves. "G..How...what...?"

Guy smiled. "Oh, that would take far too long to explain properly. I've got something to show you." He reached in his pocket, and Critic drew his gun and pointed it straight at Guy's head. Guy rolled his eyes. "Put that toy away, Doug. It can't hurt me, and I gave Dominic my Word that I would not do anything to violate Neutrality."

"I ain't putting it away until I'm sure you're not pulling out something that will try to kill me."

Guy pulled a small crystal ball out of his pocket and tossed it to him. Critic caught it one handed "Take a look inside, twin dear."

Critic peered into the depths. "Oh my god...th...Rob!" He gaped at Guy, his bile rising. "What have you done to him?!"

"Nothing. Yet. Here's the deal, Doug. I've heard it through the grapevine that you've got a certain...young woman on your hands that has quite the interesting power. I propose a trade. You bring this person to me in..say, one weeks' time, and I let our dear brother go. I'll even promise to never interfere in your lives ever again. I'll leave Awesomia and never return. But if you don't, I'll destroy everyone you've ever loved. I'll kill you a thousand times over in ways that you cannot even imagine. I'll bring you back over and over until you're nothing but a dried out husk begging for death, and only then will I grant you release."

Critic shook his head. "No. I don't know what you have planned, but I'm not going to just hand her over. And, dear brother, it will take more power than even you have to kill me permanently. See, I've become gainfully employed." He pulled up his right jacket sleeve, turning his arm so the tattoo was visible to both of them. Dominic looked shocked, and Guy looked furious.

"You're a Disciple?!"

Critic's gun hand was steady. "Yep, and if you threaten me, you'll get the attention of my Boss. That extends to anyone under a Disciple's Protection, and the Healer is under mine. Threaten her again, directly or indirectly, and I will forget you are my brother. Now, get out of here." He cocked the gun, and Guy vanished in a puff of black smoke.

Critic's legs gave way, and he collapsed into a booth. Dominic grabbed a bottle off the shelf and sent it over to him. Critic popped it open and drained half the whiskey at a gulp. "Well...that was..."

"Scary as fuck?" Dominic asked drily. Critic nodded, and he slid into the opposite booth. "What are you going to do? He's got Rob locked up someplace with what looks like silver chains, and while you may not be able to die or feel pain, Miss Green can. Your Protective Spells are strong, but Guy could level the entire building without even trying. I'd say bring her here, but even that would be a temporary solution."

"I don't want you getting too deeply involved, Dominic."

"Douglas, we're family. I'm already involved. You need to figure something out."

"I know. Right now though, I need to get back home and make sure Layla's OK." He frowned at the grin on his cousin's face. "What?"

"Oh, nothing. It's just that when you were in here a few days ago you seemed to resent her very existence, and now she's Layla. I must say, that's quite the quick turn around. And they say there's no such thing as love at first sight."

Critic glared daggers at him. "I do not have..those types of feelings for her! Just because she's not what I thought doesn't mean that I've got the hots for her. She's under my Protection, and that's as far as it goes."

"Uh huh. So how long has it been since you've been laid?" Dominic asked, still grinning, and Critic moaned in annoyance.

"It's-not-like-that!"

Dominic shrugged. "Suit yourself. Listen, I've got to open up soon. If you want to stay and help out tonight, you're more than welcome."

Critic shook his head. "I don't want to leave Layla alone for longer than I...wait a second! Dominic, you're a fucking genius!" He leapt across the table and kissed his cheek with a loud smack before running behind the bar and picking up the phone. Dominic followed, a little nonplussed. "C'mon, c'mon...Layla! It's Critic. I need you to come to the Pixel Palace. I promise, everything is fine. What? Oh! One sec." He closed his eyes, sending out a wave of magic, then resumed speaking. "There. You'll be able to leave now. Once you're out of the building, the Wards will go back up. I'll explain everything once you get here."

Layla arrived ten minutes later. "Critic, what is going on?"

Critic turned to Dominic. "The Palace is under the protection of Neutrality, right?"

"Yes."

"And Layla's under Disciple's Protection."

"Also right. But I still don't see..." Critic stared at him, and Dominic felt the pieces fall into place. "Douglas, you bloody magnificent bastard! Even if Guy doesn't give his Word, Disciple Protection means that Layla can't be hurt without bringing even worse consequences down on him!" He laughed, and Doug grinned.

"Umm...someone want to fill me in?" Layla asked, looking very confused. Dominic sighed.

"Douglas can explain it to you better than I could. But still, you can't just stay here. I've got a business to run."

Critic sighed. "She can help! I'm sure she's not too proud to serve drinks and food."

Layla grinned. "Wouldn't be the worst job I had. I could also provide the entertainment, if you need it."

Dominic pondered for a second, looked over at the empty stage to the right of the bar, then back to her. "I could use some of that. What do you do?"

Layla walked over to the stage and plugged in the mic,then began to sing.

"Lo, how a rose e'er blooming  
From tender stem hath sprung,  
Of Jesse's lineage coming,  
As men of old have sung.  
It came a fl ow'ret bright  
Amid the cold of winter  
When half-spent was the night.  
Isaiah 'twas foretold it,  
This Rose that I have in mind.  
And with Mary we behold it,  
The Virgin Mother so sweet and so kind.  
To show God's love aright,  
She bore to men a Saviour  
When half-spent was the night.  
What power art thou who from below  
Hast made me rise unwillingly and slow  
From beds of everlasting snow?  
See'st thou not how stiff, how stiff and wondrous  
old,  
Far, far unfit to bear the bitter cold?  
I can scarcely move or draw my breath:  
Let me, let me, let me freeze again to death."

Dominic's jaw was on the floor. "You're hired." He looked over at Critic, who looked like he had just witnessed a miracle. "Douglas, what do you think?"

"Sing it again," Critic begged, and Layla smiled, bowing.

"As you wish."

She began singing once more, and Critic felt the music wash over him. He looked over at Dominic, who smirked at him. Critic ignored him and turned back to watch Layla. She wasn't what he expected. He had expected her to be a flighty earth-child type, someone that flitted through life without a thought for anyone but herself. Instead she was smart, compassionate, and understanding. She had given him back so much in just the few short days he had known her, and hadn't asked for anything in return.

He still didn't believe in love at first sight, but he'd be lying if he said he felt nothing for her.

Layla finished singing, then walked over to Critic. "You. Buy me a drink, then tell me what's going on."

* * *

Meanwhile, in another location, Spoony lay in Linkara's arms, silently holding a conversation with Insano.

"_There's a war coming, you know." _

"I know, and Critic's caught right in the middle of it. What happens next is up to him. We can ask Linkara for help."

"_Would he give it?" _

"Possibly. He loves us, after all, and he has that pesky honor that annoys you so much. But we can worry about that in the morning. We need to sleep now."

The alchemist pressed closer to their lover, letting sleep overtake them.


	6. A Little Night Music

Chapter Six: A Little Night Music

Disclaimer "Sooner or Later(I Always Get My Man)" belongs to Sondheim. I highly doubt he'll ever find this comm, though.

* * *

Dominic checked the mic one more time before heading back behind the bar. Layla was sitting on an empty wine barrel, hands twisting and turning in her lap. "Relax, Milady. You'll knock them dead. So to speak. Have you seen the dress Maven sent over?"

Layla nodded, looking over at the blood-red dress that hung on the back of the door. It was sleeveless and backless, with a slit that went right up to the pancreas. "It's a bit...well, it's not really what I'm used to wearing," she said, indicating her blouse and pants. "I think the last time I wore a dress I had just been christened. Still, it's very beautiful. I just...I dunno, it's kind of showy."

Dominic laughed. "That's the idea, love. I need you to be able to draw my customers in with more than just that angelic voice of yours. You're a remarkably beautiful young woman, Layla Green, and it's time you showed that off."

Layla sighed and stood, retrieving the dress. "I suppose. Now, if you don't mind..." she pointed to the door, and Dominic bowed, exiting. Layla stared at the dress for several heartbeats then began to get dressed.

Dominic took his place behind the bar and watched as the Pixel Palace began to fill up. He could see Linkara and his boyfriend(s), Nostalgia Chick, and, much to his surprise, he also saw Harvey hovering in a darkened booth. Dominic raised his hand to the ghost in salute, and Harvey nodded back, then materialized on the bar stool in front of him. "Evening, Mr. Finevoice. What brings you here?"

"Heard you hired a singer, so I decided to come check her out. She any good?"

Dominic smiled enigmatically. "You'll have to find out same as everyone else. Have you seen that cousin of mine?"

"He had a call in Comiconra, said he might not make it tonight." Nostalgia Chick had bellied her way up to the bar. She gave a sidelong glance at Harvey, eyes narrowing, and Dominic cleared his throat.

"Please observe Neutrality, Miss Chick. What can I get you?"

"Rum and information."

Dominic poured her a glass of rum. "And the information?"

Chick pointed to a man sitting in a back booth. He seemed to blend in with the shadows. "Who's that?"

Dominic sighed. "It calls itself Todd. It's a Shadow." Chick looked blank. "Some of the more powerful Mages don't use animals for familiars, they use their own shadows. The Shadow can go wherever it pleases, even places most mortals couldn't enter."

"So not a real guy."

Dominic shook his head. "Shadows have no concept of sex, so don't try flirting with it." Chick nodded, then grabbed the rum bottle and headed back to her table. Harvey frowned.

"Poor gal. She's cute, she deserves someone." He turned back to the bar, sighing in longing. "Damn, what I wouldn't give to have just one drop of rye."

Dominic smiled at him in sympathy, then looked around at the sound of the door opening. "Douglas! You made it!"

Critic threaded his way through the tight throng, pausing to say a quick hello to everyone he knew. He stopped at Linkara's table and held a long conversation with him, then made his way to the bar. "Scotch. Now." Dominic poured him a shot, and he knocked it back. He looked worn out. "So I'm in this old warehouse that has been rumored to be the hangout of Necros. I go in, and instead of Necros I'm confronted with a teenager. The kid's pressed against the wall, whimpering and crying.."

* * *

Critic pocketed his gun, cursing. There weren't any Ghouls here, so why was he being called out to handle what looked like just another runaway? He stepped closer to the kid, and that was when the boy lashed out at him, eyes wild and wide with terror. "Make it stop dude make it stop they keep whispering to me they tell me things I can't shut it out there's a war coming Life and Death are two sides of the same coin oh my god my head hurts so much!" Critic blinked as the kid swayed, then fell to his knees. "It...hurts..so...much..."

Critic took a breath, then knelt beside him, gently touching his shoulder. "Hey, close your eyes." The kid looked at him like he had two heads. "Trust me. Close them." The kid obeyed, and Critic placed his hand over the lids, muttering a quiet spell. "OK, that should help temporarily. What's your name?"

"I...I don't know. I don't remember anything about myself." He shrugged. "Umm, I love the 90s."

"OK, I'll call you 90s Kid. Do you know what's happening?"

90s Kid shook his head. "No, I just know that every now and then I'll get these weird visions, and it's all I'm able to see. Am I..I'm not sick, am I?!"

Critic smiled. "No, you're a Precog. You can see the future...sort of." 90s Kid frowned at him in confusion. "Well, the future isn't set in stone. So, what are you doing in this warehouse?"

"I don't know. The visions sometimes make me black out, and I'll wake up in weird places."

Critic sighed. The Kid looked like he had lived a rough life. "Listen, I...I might know someone that can help you."

90s Kid's eyes lit up. "Really? Who?"

"An alchemist that calls themselves Insano and Spoony. They..he...anyway, if you want to, you can come back to Awesomia with me."

* * *

Harvey grinned. "That was so noble of you, Disciple. And here I thought you were a heartless bastard."

Critic glared at him. "Fuck you too, Ectoplasm." The bar plunged into darkness.

"Harvey, enough! Turn the lights back on! And Douglas, please conduct yourself with a little more decorum." Dominic scolded both of them. The lights came back on, revealing that Harvey had gone to talk to Linkara. "So where's the kid you rescued?"

"Nella's keeping an eye on him."

Dominic 'hmmed'. "Glad you could make it. Layla makes her debut tonight, and I have the feeling you'd hate to miss it. Go find a good seat, she's coming on soon."

Critic found a table right by the stage. Dominic stepped up to the mic. "Ladies and gentlemen, I have a special treat for you tonight. Making her singing debut here at the Pixel Palace, the lovely Miss Layla Green!"

There was polite applause, then the curtain opened and Layla stepped onto the stage. A dead silence fell, and Critic thought his eyes were going to pop out of his head. Layla was in a dress that clung to her in all the right ways, showing off curves he hadn't even known she had. She walked up to the mic, and he whimpered softly at her long legs. "Thank you, Dominic. And thank you all for that applause. I hope I can live up to it." She glanced around the room and spotted Critic staring transfixed at her. A wicked thought entered her mind. "Ladies and gentlemen, I was going to sing a few older songs, but that's changed." She took the mic off the stand and began singing, her voice as seductive as she could make it.

"Sooner or later you're gonna be mine."

Layla sauntered off the stage, eyes fixed on Critic. When she got close to him, she leaned down, grabbing the end of his tie. "Sooner or later you're gonna be fine! Baby it's time that you face it..." She slid into his lap, hooking her bare legs around his waist. "I always get my...man." Critic gulped, and Layla pushed his hat down over his eyes, sliding off his lap.

Critic pushed his hat back, breathing harshly as Layla swiveled her hips in front of his face. "Sooner or later you're gonna decide. Sooner or later, there's nowhere to hide!" She sat on his lap again, this time facing the stage, and grabbed his hand, running it up her bare leg. "Baby, it's time, so why waste it in chatter? Let's settle the matter. Baby, you're mine on a platter. I always get my...man."

Layla swiveled around so she was facing him, and grabbed his tie, pulling him closer with each word. "But if you insist, babe, the challenge delights me! The more you resist ,babe, the more it excites me! And no one I've kissed, babe, ever fights me again..." Critic leaned in for a kiss, and Layla pressed his hat over his face. He tossed it on the table, glaring at her. "If you're on my list, it's just a question of when...when I get a yen...then baby amen...I'm counting to ten! And then.." She positioned herself so she was siting astride him, and ran her free hand up his chest. "I'm gonna love you like nothing you've known! I'm gonna love you and you all alone! Sooner is better than later, but lover! I'll hover, I'll plan!"

Layla slid off Critic's lap, and stood, smiling seductively at him. "This time I'm not only getting...I'm holding...my...maaannnn!"

There was silence for half a second, then the entire bar erupted in applause. Layla bowed, grinning in pride. Dominic looked over at her and gave her a thumbs up, then looked over at Harvey. The ghost had a giant grin on his face, and he gave Dominic two thumbs up. Linkara and Spoony were cheering loudly, Spoony going back and forth between himself and Insano so fast it was making Dominic dizzy.

He looked over at Douglas, trying not to grin at the look of unbridled longing he saw on his cousin's face as he stared at Layla. She went backstage to change, and after a minute of fretting, Critic went after her. Dominic almost followed, but decided against it. Douglas was many things, but a rapist was not one of them.

* * *

Layla had just slipped her shirt back on when she heard Critic's voice behind her. "You looked gorgeous out there."

"Thank you," she said, turning around to face him. "I hope I didn't...embarrass you with my choice of song."

"No, don't worry. I'm really hard..." Layla's brow rose, and he hastily amended his sentence. "To embarrass! I'm really hard to embarrass!"

Layla bit back a smile and walked over to him. "Something tells me you're the other thing, too." She glanced down, grinning at the tent she could see in his pants. "I could take care of that, if you want."

"Whuh..."

Layla snickered. "Of course, you'd have to be very quiet..." She slid to her knees in front of him, running her hand over his belt, then pulled it out of the loops one by one.

"Layla...please...we...can't..."

Layla smirked up at him. "We can, and I know you want this as badly as I do. Now just hush." She unzipped him and pulled out his cock, whistling softly at the length and girth. "Oh my..." She licked the tip, sighing, and Critic's legs nearly buckled. Layla licked up to his balls, running her tongue along the underside of his cock, and he stuffed his fist in his mouth to keep from moaning loud enough to wake the dead.

Layla deep throated him, and Critic's eyes rolled into the back of his head in ecstasy as she did things with her lips, tongue and teeth he had never thought possible. Gods, this was heaven, being buried in her hot, tight mouth..He could barely keep upright, and fell back against the door, groaning. "Faster..." Layla obeyed, and he let out a muffled curse, burying his free hand in her hair, guiding her. "Layla...I'm coming..."

Critic's body spasmed as he came in her mouth, and Layla moaned in happiness and swallowed, then pulled away with a wet popping sound. "Feel better, Critic?"

"A bit, and I think you've earned the right to call me Doug."

Layla grinned up at him. "Only a bit, Doug? What can I do to make you feel all better?"

Critic yanked her to her feet and pulled her into a bruising kiss, not minding that he could still taste himself on her. Layla kissed back, and he spun around and pressed her against the wall, squeezing her thigh hard. "I want you...fuck Layla I want you so fucking badly..."

"Doug, why do you think I sang that song? I was hoping this would be your reaction. But I'd prefer we not fuck in the back room of your cousin's bar, because I intend to get...wild."

Critic kissed her. "Layla, I don't want this to be just a fuck. I want you. Wild, soft, slow, hard, however you want, I'm yours. I've had enough of shallow relationships. I want to be your man, if you'll have me. If you'll...love me."

Layla nodded, and Critic beamed. "Grab hold of me and shut your eyes." She obeyed and he recited a Teleportation Spell. "Open your eyes, baby."

Layla looked around the room, then realized she was lying in a bed. And that she was naked. "Are we in your bedroom?"

"Yep. Figured I'd save us a walk."

"Hmm. And my clothes?"

Critic kissed the hollow of her throat, then made his way down to her right breast, flicking the nipple with his tongue. "Figured I'd save a step. Don't worry, all I did was magic them away. I prefer my lover be...responsive." He slid his hand down between her legs, lightly stroking her cunt. Layla whimpered, and Critic smirked. "Like that." He fondled her, sucking on her breasts, and Layla cried out. "Gods baby you're so wet...I need you so badly..."

"Doug...need you..." Layla's throaty purr sent him teetering over the edge. Critic had planned to make this a night she would never forget-he had thought at first their love making would start out slow and sensuous, then build. But gods, his cock was aching with the need to be inside her.

"Fuck it." He yanked her into a hard kiss, at the same time slamming his cock into her tight cunt as hard as he could. Layla screamed in elation, and Critic braced himself against the headboard and proceeded to fuck her into the mattress. Layla matched him thrust for thrust, raking her nails down his back, leaving bloody scratch marks. She bit and sucked at his neck, and he raked his teeth across her shoulder.

By the time it was over, Critic had come five times. Layla had lost count of her orgasms. She rested her head on his chest, and he ran his hand up and down her spine. "Wow..."

"Yeah. I love you, Layla. And I swear to do all I can to keep you safe."

"I love you too, Doug."

* * *

Fate looked over at Death, biting her lip in anticipation and worry. They had just watched the whole thing(well, Death had watched, Fate had pointedly stared at the wall until it was over) and now she was waiting for ...well, she wasn't sure what. "Thanatos?"

"Well...I must say, this is unexpected. Still, he looks happy."

Fate blinked. "You're not going to punish him?"

"No, why would I? You yourself said their threads are linked."

"And when she performs the Resurrection Spell?"

Death sighed. "I'll worry about that when it comes. You said there's another few months, right? Then for now, let Doug Walker have a little happiness."


	7. A Brief Interlude

Chapter Seven: A Brief Interlude

90s Kid slowly opened his eyes, realizing that he was in a warm bed. The last thing he remembered was meeting that nice dude that had done something to make his head hurt less, then a strange whooshing sound had filled his head, and 90s Kid blacked out.

He pushed the blanket down to his feet, relieved to see that he still had his clothes on. An enticing aroma filled the air, and 90s Kid inhaled, grinning. "Pancakes!" He leapt out of bed-or at least he tried to. His legs gave way, and he yelped as he scraped his shin on a nightstand. A wave of horrible dizziness overtook him, and he fought to keep his gorge down.

"Are you alright?"

He looked up at a plump woman with short brown hair. She was in a house dress, and was smiling at him in sympathy. "Are you OK?" she repeated, and 90s Kid gulped.

"I dunno, I'm like, totally dizzy and junk."

The woman knelt in front of him, pressing a cool hand to his forehead. "You're burning up!" She placed her hand under his chin, trying to look into his eyes.

"No, dudette, don't do that! I...people can't look in my eyes. I get these weird flashes if they do."

Nella smiled. "It's OK, I can handle it. I need to see if your eyes are glazed." She lifted his chin. "Well, they're clear, so the fever is most likely a residual effect of the spell Critic cast on top of the Teleportation."

90s Kid blinked. "I teleported here?! Awesome! Is Critic that dude in the hat and tie?"

Nella nodded. "That's him. I'm Nella, by the way. Critic said he calls you 90s Kid?"

"Yeah, it's a pretty weird name and all, but I don't remember my real name."

Nella frowned. "What do you remember?"

90s Kid thought for a moment. "I remember getting into a really bad fight with my mom, then running out of the house. Something hit me on the head, and I woke up in that warehouse in the middle of one of my Visions." He sniffled. "Will I ever remember who I was?"

Nella sighed. "I don't know. Listen, if you think you can keep food down, I made pancakes. Also, I've got something for you." She reached into her pocket and handed him a pair of sunglasses.

"Cool shades!" He slipped them on, grinning.

Nella laughed. "They're more than that. Those will enable you to look at people without having Visions. Magical artifacts are a specialty of mine. What about you?"

90s Kid looked at her in confusion. "What do you mean, what about me?"

"Well, apart from being able to see the future, what magic skills do you have?"

"Umm...I'm totally not magic, Nella-dudette. Comicrona doesn't have Magic."

Nella blinked. "Right, I forgot. Umm..is there anyone else back home like you? Able to see things, can make things happen. Stuff like that?"

"Naw, I think I'm the only one."

'Why am I not surprised?' Nella thought to herself. "Well, if you're hungry, breakfast is ready."

While 90s Kid devoured stacks of pancakes drowning in syrup, Nella went into the living room to call Critic.

"Hmm?"

"Critic, it's Nella."

There was the sound of fumbling, and Critic spoke coherently. "Nella, hey. What's up?" Nella thought she heard him mumble "Stop that, it's distracting."

"It's about the Kid you decided to deposit on my doorstep."

Critic sighed. "Nella, I told you it would be temporary. Linkara's agreed to let him stay at his house. They should be by to collect him later this afternoon."

"When you say 'they'..."

"Relax. I mean Linkara and Dominic. I know you don't exactly get along with Spoony or his...other side."

Nella snorted. "Spoony's other half stole my Aura-Piercing Goggles. I know the poor man doesn't deserve what happened to him, but he needs to curb himself a bit better. And Linkara won't hear a word said against Spoony."

"Yeah. Nella, why did you call?"

Nella sighed, looking around the corner at 90s Kid, who was still gobbling down pancakes. "The Kid's a native of Comicrona, right?"

Critic somehow managed a verbal shrug. "I would assume so, that's where I found him."

Nella counted backwards from ten. "Critic, Comicrona is a Magic Dead Spot. We can still use our magic because we're outsiders, and even then it's going to be dampened a great deal by the Dead Spot, but no native is going to be born a Mage, or have any Skill."

Critic said a word Nella hadn't known Critic knew. "So in the course of two weeks, I've met two impossible people. A kid native to a magic Dead Spot that's a Precog, and the Healer!"

Nella 'hmmed' in sympathy. "Maybe it's Fate."

"Or her co-worker." Critic said, then hung up. Nella shut off her phone.

If Fate really was taking a personal interest in Critic's life, that could mean trouble.

Major trouble.

"There's a war coming."

Nella turned to 90s Kid, her stomach churning. His glasses were off, and his eyes were completely black-no pupils or irises."What?"

"I See it. There's a war coming, and the Disciple is caught in the middle."

Nella started to say something, and 90s Kid blinked, then shook himself. "Umm...what happened?" He saw the look on Nella's face. "I had another vision, didn't I?"

"Yeah."

* * *

In his cell, Rob Walker was feeling the first glimmer of hope in a long time. He had managed to discover what the runes on his collar said by carefully examining himself in the basin of brackish water that Guy left for him. He didn't like to spend too much time looking at himself-his months in captivity had not done his looks any favors- but he thought that if he tried, he could recite the rune's counter-spell and free himself.

And when he did, he was going to bring the thunder down on his insane brother.

The sound of a key turning in the lock made him scramble to make sure he didn't look too conspicuous. Guy entered the cell, smiling at him in a way that made Rob's testicles shrivel up. "Comfortable, Robert?"

"It's the finest shit hole I've ever been locked up in," Rob snarked. Guy's eyes darkened for a second, but then he laughed and patted Rob patronizingly on the head.

"Such fiery spirit. Well, I guess it runs in the family. Did I tell you the wonderful news? I saw dear Doug just last week."

Rob gaped at Guy in shock. "Where?!"

"At cousin Dominic's bar! Doesn't that just warm your heart to know that Doug is back in town? Well, wait until I tell you what else I know! It seems that our brother has become a Disciple!"

Rob went white. "He what?" he whispered, unable to believe what he was hearing. "How could he?"

Guy shrugged. "That's a very good question. The answer is, desperate times call for desperate measures. I'm sure that you'll have plenty of time to ask him once he gets here."

Rob had been staring at the floor, and now he looked up into his brother's insanely grinning face. "What the hell have you done?!"

Guy giggled. "I've...what's the phrase, decided to make him an offer he can't refuse."


	8. Setting the Trap

Chapter Eight: Setting the Trap

Critic was in an uncharacteristically good mood. It had been four months since he and Layla became lovers, and five since he had seen his twin. He had a positive amount of money in the bank thanks to a deal he had struck with Dominic to get 20% of the money Layla pulled in singing-and she could pull in a lot in a night. True, he still had to do his Job, but after everything he had been through in his life, he wasn't going to complain about that.

When Layla sang, he would watch from backstage as she flirted with everyone, using her assets to her advantage, winking and smirking at the predominately male audience. At first, he had been slightly jealous, but quickly squashed the feeling after reminding himself that it didn't matter how many guys she flirted with. His bed was the one she ended up in every night. After that, he couldn't help but feel a bit smug.

Not that Layla wasn't capable of dealing with customers that got a little too handsy-Critic had seen her punch a guy so hard that he spun three times before collapsing into an ungainly heap on the floor, after which she had continued singing as if nothing had happened. "Healer doesn't translate to wimpy damsel in distress," she told him later.

All these thoughts went through his head as he moved around the kitchen, a cup of coffee in one hand and a piece of buttered toast in the other. He looked out the window at the lightening sky, and silently raised his cup in salute to any other early risers.

"Doug?"

Critic turned and smiled at Layla. "Hey babe. You're up early. Want some coffee?"

"No, I'm good." Layla gave him a quick kiss before fixing herself a cup of tea. Critic made a face at it, and she rolled her eyes in amused exasperation. "I get my caffeine in other ways."

"Ick. Give me good strong coffee over wimpy old tea any day."

Layla chuckled. "Says the man who dumps half a bag of sugar in his coffee. At least I don't put anything in my tea."

"Yeah, well...umm.." Critic's witty reprimand was cut short by the sound of his phone ringing. Layla laughed as he mouthed 'I'll get you later' before answering. "Hello?"

The voice on the other end was Linkara's, and he sounded on the edge of panic. "Critic, has Spoony been in touch with you lately?"

"No, why?"

Linkara took several deep breaths. "I haven't seen them since last Wednesday. They were going to do some work in their lab and then come over and spend the weekend with me. When they didn't show, I called and left a message. Spoony's usually pretty good about checking their phone. I tried the police, but they don't care about us. They've never gone more than a few days without at least a phone call."

Critic frowned. "I haven't heard from either of them since they were in the Palace with you. Want me to call Dominic and see if he can give any info?"

"Yeah, and make it a three-way call if you can. I want to hear this too."

"No problem." He pressed the button for a three way call, then dialed Dominic's personal cell number.

"Hello?" Dominic sounded quite groggy, and Critic realized he had woken him up.

"Dominic, it's Critic and Linkara. Has Spoony been in there since last Monday night?"

Dominic yawned, cracking his jaw. "Nope, why?"

Linkara gulped. "They're missing. I haven't seen them since Wednesday, and I'm starting to get really worried. Insano...he's not the most popular guy in the world. There's plenty of Mages that would happily see him dead."

Dominic sighed. "I thought they were Alchemists, not Mages."

"Spoony is. Insano-I'm not sure what his Skills are, to be honest. He's got Spoony's knowledge of alchemy and potions, plus he can make artifacts-but more often than not, they end up blowing up in our faces. 90's Kid loves it when Insano is the dominant personality. He's always asking for more explosions."

Critic couldn't help the laugh that escaped him. He quickly covered it up with a cough when he saw Layla giving him The Look. "Have you called any of Spoony's fellow Alchemists?"

Linkara snorted. "What fellow alchemists? The Guild dropped him like a hot potato after the accident. He was 'a detriment to the noble art of alchemy.' Bunch of bigoted assholes. Here's the finest alchemist that's ever been in centuries, and because of one slip up, suddenly everyone that kissed his ass turns their back on him!"

Critic 'hmmed' "OK, so that route is out, and there's no point in talking to the cops, since there's few Mortal cops that do understand our world to begin with. What about asking Harvey? Maybe Spoony had business in Shadow Town."

Linkara groaned. "You dolt, that was one of the first things I thought of! Harvey hasn't seen them. What if...what if they're lying dead somewhere?"

"Well, I know for sure they're not dead, otherwise I'd feel my Boss collecting them. So I promise you, they're alive."

The door buzzed, and Layla went to answer it. A small man in an oversized coat a cap pulled over his face handed her a small package, then turned and left without a word. Layla turned the package over in her hands, then held it to her ear. It wasn't ticking, at least. "Doug?"

Critic looked over at her, and she held up the package. "You've got mail." He frowned and indicated for her to open it.

"Hang on, someone sent me something."

Linkara's reply was slightly bemused. "Me too. Dominic?"

"Nope, nothing."

Layla opened the package, pulling out a battered, bloody hat. Critic nearly dropped the phone, then he heard Linkara's strangled sob of "Oh dear gods. Insano's goggles...and they're broken."

Critic gaped at a hat that he had seen Rob wear so often over the years that he could never mistake it for anything else. But Rob was... "Oh fuck...Linkara...I think I know where Spoony is."

Dominic had sussed what his cousin meant. "Shit."

"What? Where is he?"

"Guy has them."

* * *

"Wakey wakey, Rob! You've got company!" Guy kicked Rob in the leg, startling him into wakefulness. Behind him was Tom, his arms full of a bruised, bloody, and battered man. Rob noticed that this man was chained up with ordinary steel manacles. Guy motioned to Tom, and he cuffed the half-conscious man to the wall opposite Rob. He was tall, skinny, and very pale, with long black hair. Guy grabbed his chin and slapped his face hard. "Up and at 'em!"

The man yelped. "Who the devil are you?"

Guy cackled. "Who the devil indeed. You may call me...Ask That Guy. Such a pleasure to meet you both. Are you Spoony or Insano now?"

Rob frowned in confusion at his brother addressing the man as if there were two people there. "Guy...there's only one man there."

Guy laughed. "Such a clever one, brother dear! But looks are deceiving, aren't they?" He placed his hand against the pale man's throat, sending jolts of magical electricity through his body. "Watch and be amazed, big brother."

Rob watched in horrified fascination as his cellmate went back and forth between two distinct personalities. "Stop it! You're hurting me _I'm going to kill you_ please stop _Oh quit whining Spoony let me kill him_ what do you want with me_ I told you there was a war coming!_"

Guy turned and grinned at him. "Isn't that a neat trick? Now, as to what Spoony asked-what I want is to live forever, and you three are going to help me achieve that goal."

"How?" Spoony asked. Guy patted his head. Insano snarled at him, and Guy drew his hand back.

"Oooh, you're a feisty one. I'll offer your lover a trade-he convinces my dear brother to hand over the Healer, and I let all of you go relatively unscathed. If Doug refuses, I send you both back to Linkara in a matchbox. After I've tortured you, of course, and I'm very inventive when it comes to inflicting pain. And I can cast a spell that makes it so Spoony feels everything Insano does, and vice versa. I'll give you until tomorrow morning to think about it." He left, and Spoony slumped to the floor.

"He means it, you know."

Spoony glanced over at Rob. "Yeah, I gathered that from his voice. You must be Rob. We're friends with your other brother."

Rob frowned. "Doug?" Spoony nodded wearily. "Guy told me that he's a..."

"_A Disciple?" _

'That high pitched voice must be Insano, Spoony's other personality', thought Rob. "Yeah. Is he?"

"Yes. Why, are you going to disown him now?"

"No! Of course not. It's just...not something I picture Doug doing, that's all. What's all this about a Healer?"

Spoony sighed. "That's a long story."

"I'm not going anywhere."

* * *

Dominic had never seen Linkara so furious. When the Mage found out who had his lovers, he had cursed a blue streak before demanding that Critic meet him at the Pixel Palace five minutes ago. Critic and Layla threw on some clothes and teleported over. Linkara arrived seconds later, looking absolutely furious. "If he hurts them, I'll kill him. Black Mage or no, nobody touches my men. So I propose we find his hideout and we kill him."

Critic rolled his eyes. "Brilliant strategy, Napoleon. We don't know where it is, we don't know what sort of creatures he has working for him, we don't know what countermeasures he's used to keep Mages out, and we don't know why he kidnapped Spoony and Insano in the first place."

"Well, it can't be for anything good! Gods, why are we just sitting on our asses?"

Dominic sighed. "Linkara, I know you're upset, but Douglas is right. You cannot go up against Guy blind. Though what his purpose in kidnapping Spoony when he has Rob is puzzling."

Linkara gaped in horror at Critic, who nodded glumly. "From the looks of it, Rob's been his captive for a long time now."

"And you didn't try to find him?! He's your brother, for gods' sake!"

Critic snarled at Linkara. "Don't you dare presume that, Mage! I have tried!"

"Not hard enough, apparently! What, is scrivening beyond you? That's child-level magic!"

"You are such a fucking idiot. My twin is powerful enough to block that magic without even trying!"

Linkara balled his hand into a fist, and began muttering under his breath. A small wisp of flame appeared on his fingertips. "Call me an idiot again."

"You're an. Idiot."

Linkara snarled in rage and was about to launch a fireball at Critic when a high pitched screech filled the air. Critic and Linkara clapped their hands to their ears, faces screwed up in pain. Layla rolled her eyes at them. "Thanks, Dominic."

Dominic nodded to Layla, then addressed the men, his brogue thick with anger. "You violate Neutrality again, and I will not hesitate to use my Screech in its full power on you both. Luckily, it won't kill you, but it will hurt quite an awful lot and make you think twice about pissing me off."

Layla glared at both of them. "Now, if you're done with the pissing contest, I may have an idea. Guy no doubt kidnapped Spoony to use them as bait. He's got no great knowledge, and in Guy's eyes, Spoony is a nobody. But what he does have is a lover who happens to be acquainted with his brother, who also happens to know a certain Healer-whom Guy has been trying to get hold of for the past four months."

Dominic nodded. "And thanks to Neutrality and Disciple Protection, he can't touch you without alerting the Reaper."

Critic frowned. "But Linkara's not...oh!"

Layla smiled grimly. "Exactly. He could bring me to Guy without violating Protection, because it doesn't extend to him."

Linkara's eyes went wide. "But I would never do that! Spoony would never forgive me if I turned you over to Guy. He's quite fond of you, you know."

"Oh, I didn't know that! This makes things so much better!"

Linkara stared at Guy for half a second before trying to launch himself at him, screaming obscenities. Dominic wrapped his arms around his waist, holding him back. Critic stepped in front of Layla, shielding her. "What do you want?"

Guy cut his eyes to Layla. "Why, I want that gorgeous thing standing behind you, Doug. I must say, she is quite the morsel. I've come with a proposition. You bring her to me by tomorrow night, or I start torturing the Split, and I won't stop until they're both begging for death. If you make the right decision, I can be found on the borders of Shadow Town. Cheery bye!" With that, Guy vanished.

Dominic released the struggling Linkara. "Sorry, but I couldn't risk you getting hurt trying to attack him." He turned to Layla. "You OK?"

She nodded. "Yeah, I am. And I know what to do. We spring his trap and set it off in his face."


	9. At the Mouth of Hell

Chapter 9: At the Mouth of Hell

There was dead silence for nearly a full minute. Linkara was the first to break it. "I'm sorry, what?!"

Layla sighed, running her hands through her hair in a gesture of impatience. "We have to go to...Critic's twin." She sighed at the looks she was getting. "He's got us by the short hairs. If Linkara goes in hell- bent for leather and gun blazing, he's going to get not only himself killed but also Spoony, Insano, and possibly Rob. If Doug goes in without me, his Twin can subject him to all sorts of torture without actually killing him, and he'll still come after me. But if I go in with Linkara, under the pretense that he's bringing me for a trade, I can get close enough to Doug's twin to try something."

Critic frowned. "Layla, if you cast Resurrection..."

Layla shook her head. "Not Resurrection. Not...really. It's a spell that only Healers know, and I'm the only one that can Cast it effectively. It does...sort of cheat Death, but there's a loophole. Also, there's a pretty good chance it..." she bit her lip, staring down at the floor, and Dominic sighed.

"It could prove fatal, couldn't it. For you." Layla nodded imperceptibly.

"Fuck that!" Critic yelled in anger. "There's no fucking way I'm letting you go through with this! We'll just have to think of something else!"

"Like what? If your twin forces me to Cast Resurrection on him, he will become immortal, and he will plunge this world into Darkness and Insanity." Layla waked over to Critic, looking into his eyes. "I don't have a choice. None of us do."

Critic shook his head. "No, you're wrong. We do. We can run. We can go someplace where that madman can never find us. I can pass on my Duties to someone else, and we can live a long, semi-peaceful life under assumed names. We'll even have a nice white-picket fence."

Layla smiled sadly. "And what about Rob? Do we leave him to his death? Can you live with the knowledge that you might have been able to save your brother's life?"

Critic gulped back tears. "I spent the better part of a decade thinking he was already dead. I don't know how I feel knowing he's alive. But I do know that if you do this, and you die, I'll go crazy." He pulled Layla into a tight embrace, breath hitching. "I love you...so much. Please tell me there's another way."

"There's not, and the longer we sit here and argue, the more time your twin has to torture my men!" Linkara interjected angrily. Critic glared at him in fury, and Linkara sighed. "I'm sorry, but Layla's plan is the only one I see possibly working."

Critic fumed for a second, then nodded. "Fine. So what do we do, just have you two walk into my brother's lair? He's bound to smell a rat."

"Not if we make it look like I'm Linkara's prisoner."

Linkara shook his head. "There are so many ways this plan could go wrong. Critic's twin isn't stupid. I'm sure he knows that we're friends."

"Yes, and he's holding your lovers hostage with the promise of torturing them if you don't turn me over post-haste. He's going to bank on that overriding any friendship we may have." Layla said, and Linkara heaved a sigh.

"Yeah, but I still don't like it. What if something goes wrong?"

Layla was about to answer when Nella and 90's Kid entered the Palace, the latter looking white as death, his eyes red rimmed and tired. "Then Awesomia is doomed," Nella said, leading the teen over to the bar. "Dominic, don't suppose you could bend the rules a bit and let this kid have a shot of brandy?"

Dominic shook his head. "Sorry, I'm not risking it. I can give him a Coke, but that's it."

90's Kid shivered, then spoke, his voice a croak. "Sure, dude, Coke's fine. Hey Linkara-dude." Dominic poured him a Coke, and 90's Kid gulped half the glass down. Linkara reached for his hand, and 90's Kid jumped out of his way. "DON'T TOUCH ME!"

Linkara blinked, a bit shocked at the outburst. "90's Kid..."

"J..just don't touch me, OK? None of you touch..." He stopped talking, his breath hitching as he choked on air. "Not again..." he moaned, then fell to the floor, convulsing. His glasses fell off, revealing that his eyes were black. He clutched his head, screaming and sobbing. "Please stop please I can't take it I'm seeing everything all the possibilities and they're all full of insanity and death and blood so much screaming and..."

Layla knelt next to him, placing her hand on his arm. He wrenched away. "Didn't you hear me? Don't touch me!"

"I heard you." Layla said gently, and replaced her hand. "What happened?"

90's Kid gulped. "I was Seeing even with the glasses on, and I went to see Nella to ask her why. I began to feel this really horrible pressure, like someone was squeezing my head, and I Saw...Things."

Nella picked up the story. "He collapsed on my threshold, bleeding from the eyes. This was the only place I could think to bring him, since magic is suppressed here. I don't know what's going on."

Linkara sighed. "I think I might. He's a native of Comicrona, right? It's possible that his Gift is starting to get out of control, since he's got nobody back home that could help him manage it. Unless he gets Training soon, he could go insane."

90's Kid looked terrified. "Dude, I don't want to go crazy! There's gotta be some way to help me!"

Critic shrugged. "I've got some cognitive ability, but I don't know how much help I could be."

"What about that spell you did when we first met?"

"That was a temporary shield. You need someone that can not only see every possible future, but can also help you untangle..." Critic fell silent, mouth open. Layla looked over at him.

"Doug?"

"I think I've got an idea. It's a really far fetched one, but it just might work. They've been known to help Seers in the past. But it's a gamble, and with everything going on with my twin, They just might be mad at me, and..."

Dominic gaped at him. "Douglas, you cannot mean!" Critic nodded, and Dominic uttered a few colorful Gaelic curses. "It's so crazy, it's brilliant."

Linkara and Nella frowned in incomprehension, but Layla's expression mirrored Dominic's. "Doug, you cannot be serious." She laughed. "I agree with Dominic."

90's Kid spoke up, exasperated. "Who are you guys talking about? Some fortune tellers, what?"

Critic shook his head. "Much more powerful. I'm talking about the Ladies." 90's Kid looked blank, and Critic groaned. "The Three in One, Maid, Mother, Crone...FATE!"

Linkara's jaw was on his knees. "Summon Fate. Ask powerful...Beings to act as teacher to a teenager, while at the same time try to mount a rescue on a place that will no doubt be crawling with Black Magic so Layla can get close enough to your twin to cast a spell that just might catch the attention of another, even more powerful Being on the off chance we can prevent a war that could tear Awesomia apart. Am I getting that right?"

Critic nodded, and Linkara grinned a frozen grin, walked behind the bar, and grabbed a bottle off the shelf, taking a large swallow. "That's insane. But seeing as how the longer we sit here debating, the longer Spoony and Insano are in that lunatic's hands, I say we go with it. Anyone know how to Summon Them?" There was a sudden rush of air, and a young woman with shoulder-length blue hair appeared before him.

"No need, Lewis. We heard everything. The Child needs Our help, and We are willing. His thread is connected to yours, and he will be a great asset to you in time. But now you must go. Your lovers' thread begins to Fade, and unless you hurry, my Sister-self will be cutting it." Fate turned to Layla. "You know what you must do, Healer. Cast the spell and sever the Threads. I cannot tell you the outcome, but I promise that Thanatos will not interfere. He knows what is at stake."

She then turned to Critic, a gentle smile on her face. "I have one Gift for you, Disciple. Should you need it, you'll know what to do. Hold out your hand." He obeyed, and she dropped a small leather pouch into it.

Critic peeked inside, then looked at Fate, eyes wide. She nodded, then walked over to 90's Kid. "Give me your hand, Child, and we will begin Training." He took her hand, and they vanished.

Linkara turned to Critic. "So what did you get?"

Critic pulled out a small vial stopped with a cork. Inside was a purplish, viscous liquid. "A way to stop my twin for good, if Layla's plan fails."

"That's great, but what is it?"

"Raw Magic. I drink it, and I'll be able to stand up to him in Magical Combat. Of course, the chances are it could end with us both dead and millions of dollars in property damage, so let's hope Layla's plan works."

Layla nodded. "Indeed. Well, let's put it in motion."

Critic tried to look brave. "Right. Oh, just one thing before you go." He yanked Layla into a passionate kiss. "You had better come back to me."

"I'll try."

Critic blinked back tears. "I suppose that will have to do."

After Linkara and Layla departed, Dominic pulled a large bottle of Scotch off the shelf and passed it over to his cousin, and the waiting game began.


	10. Through Trials and Tribulations

Chapter Ten: Through Trials and Tribulations

Linkara felt a cold shiver run up his spine as he and Layla entered Shadow Town. He could see the ghosts watching them, their eyes wide and staring. "This place gives me the creeps."

Layla shivered. "Same here. It's not a fit place for any sane living mortal. Which probably explains why Doug's twin is living here."

Linkara tried not to look at all the dead people surrounding him. "I still don't know how Critic managed to come see Harvey without being attacked."

Layla sighed. "Ghosts won't dare to attack a Disciple for fear that they'll be Sent On. At least that's what Doug told me."

They passed by the Grey Lady, and Harvey floated out, grinning at them. "What are you cats doing here?"

Linkara gulped, looking very uncomfortable. "It's a long, complicated story."

"Gimme the short version."

Layla took a breath. "Doug's twin has Spoony, Insano and Rob held captive and has threatened to torture and kill them unless Linkara turns me over to him, so I came up with a plan to get close to him so I can Cast a spell that will severely weaken him but in order to make it look good I have to look like Linkara's prisoner."

Harvey blinked against the onslaught of words. "Oh. Right. You realize that this is completely insane?"

Linkara rolled his eyes. "Trust me, we went over this already. Layla wouldn't budge. I can only imagine what Critic is going through right now. But it's the only chance we have."

Harvey sighed. "Well, good luck go with you. But in case everything goes balls-up, the Grey Lady could always use another ghost."

Linkara grimaced. "Umm...thanks?"

Harvey saluted, then faded into the wall. Layla turned to Linkara. "Shall we?" He nodded, and they continued down the potholed road.

Twenty minutes later, Linkara stopped, clenching his head in pain. "We're close. I can feel his Dark Aura. Owww, my head.." He took a deep breath, then resumed walking, trying not to focus on the pounding on his psyche.

Layla was feeling the effects as well, but she kept going, knowing what was at stake. "He's in there, Linkara." She pointed to a run down tenement building, its windows painted over. Linkara grimaced, and led her over to the front door, which was made of reinforced steel with a slit cut into it.

Linkara took a moment to gather himself, then knocked on the door. There was a rasping sound as the metal covering the slit ratcheted back, revealing black eyes. Linkara gulped. "I'm here to see...him. I brought the Healer." Layla waved, and the eyes appraised her for a moment, then disappeared. There was a moment's pause, then the door squalled as it was opened. A large, very ugly ogre stood in the doorway.

"Bring her in. Master is waiting."

They walked into the cold interior, and Linkara nearly collapsed at the magical assault on his senses. Layla grasped his arm and pulled him upright, hissing in his ear. "Don't you dare collapse! Spoony and Insano are counting on you!" Linkara gathered himself, and they followed Tom down a narrow, dusty hall to another steel door. Tom knocked, and a cheery voice called out.

"Come in!"

Linkara had to refrain himself from launching a fireball at Guy as they entered his Sanctum. Critic's twin was lounging in an easy chair, a wide grin on his face. "Well, I must say I'm surprised you did as I told you, Linkara. I thought for sure you'd come in here gun blazing."

"What can I say, I'm unpredictable." Guy laughed, and Linkara felt his blood go cold. "We had a deal. Give me Spoony and Insano, and I'll turn Layla over. But until I see for myself that they're alive, you're not getting her."

Guy bowed his head. "As you say, we had a deal." He snapped his fingers, and Tom came forward. "Be a good boy and go fetch the Split." Tom nodded and left, and Guy smiled. "Would you care to sit and wait?"

Linkara glared at him. "I'll stand, thanks."

* * *

"I can't stand this! I'm going after her!"

"Douglas, wait!"

"Don't try to stop me, Dominic! I'm going!"

* * *

Dominic watched helplessly as Doug ran towards Shadow Town.

Rob watched as Tom entered the cell, unlocking Spoony's cuffs. The Alchemist was in his Insano persona, and he was struggling with all his might, spewing obscenities. Tom ignored the insults, dragging Insano out of the room-leaving the door wide open. Rob grinned, unable to believe his luck. He began to mutter the incantation, hoping it would free him and not turn him into a grasshopper.

Linkara heard footsteps behind him and turned. "Insano!" Without thinking, he let go of Layla and ran towards them, only to be knocked back by Tom.

"_Linkara!_" Insano wrenched themselves free and ran over to the Mage, kneeling next to him. "_Linkara, are you OK?"_ Linkara looked at their bruised and bloodied face, and smiled.

"You're asking me if I'm OK? Babe, you look like you've been dragged backwards through a tractor. Is Spoony...how's he?"

Insano's face shifted, and Spoony smiled at Linkara. "We're better, now that you're here." Linkara chuckled softly.

Guy mock-sighed. "Aww, what a touching reunion. Now that you've seen that the Split is alive, I'll be taking my prize!" He yanked Layla forward, spinning her so her back was pinned against his front, and ran his tongue along her neck. "Mmmm...exquisite taste. You're going to do so much for me, my dear. With you by my side, I'll be unstoppable."

Layla tried not to vomit as his hands roved over her body, instead focusing on recalling the words of the Spell. "You...you need something from me first."

Guy smirked. "Yes, that is true. Will you give it freely?"

"Let me go and I will. I swear on my Soul." Guy released her, and she shuddered, then walked over to Spoony and Linkara. "You guys might not want to be here for this."

Guy laughed, loud and long. "No, no please let them stay. I think witnesses would be of use. Don't you agree, dear twin?" Guy asked, staring over Linkara's shoulder. Layla spun around, eyes going wide. Guy continued to laugh. "Aww, have you come to rescue the fair damsel in distress, Doug? How noble."

Critic stepped closer, his gun pointed straight at Guy. "I don't do noble, Gerrick! I'm here to kill you."

Guy manifested a ball of black flame. "DON'T CALL ME GERRICK!" He sent it flying at Critic, who muttered a Shield Spell, blocking the flame and sending it back to Guy. Guy ducked, and the flame slammed into the wall, setting it ablaze. "Not too shabby, Doug. But let's see how well you hold up against a Mind Spell."

Critic went stiff as Guy assaulted his mind with horrific images of blood, torture, and death. He staggered, falling against the wall as he gasped in pain. He couldn't think,couldn't see. Guy's triumphant laugh was filling his head. "I...can't..." He felt something else gently probing his mind, and whimpered.

Images began to fill his mind-Layla in his arms after a long love-making session, watching her sleep for a bit before pulling her close and falling asleep himself, the time they made cookies and ended up covered in dough and flour, her holding him when he cried over his brother, and the numerous times she would give him her own special smile while she was singing. He smiled, feeling the grip of Guy's spell starting to loosen.

Guy growled in rage and telekinetically slammed Layla into the wall, knocking the wind out of her. "STAY OUT OF THIS!"

Critic snarled in anger and manifested a ball of electricity, sending it straight at his twin's head. It struck true, and Guy yelped in pain, then sent his own ball at Critic, who blocked it. "Try a bit harder, Gerrick!"

"STOP CALLING ME THAT!"

Linkara and Spoony were about to provide Critic some backup when the back wall exploded outward, revealing:

"ROB!" Critic yelled, unable to believe what he was seeing. Rob gaped at his brother.

"Oh my gods...Doug, you're alive!" Rob started towards him, stopping when he saw the tattoo on his arm. "It's true, then. You're a Disciple." Critic nodded, and Rob gulped. "Well...you're still my brother, no matter what." He grinned. "And it looks like you could use some help."

He stood next to Critic, and they both turned to face Guy, who was looking less than confident. "Do you want to try your Skill against both of us?"

Guy smirked, then yanked Layla forward, pinned her against his body, twisted her arm behind her back and wrapped his hand around her throat, squeezing hard. Layla gasped, and Guy twisted her arm even harder. "Shut up, cunt. Doug, here's how it's going to work. You and Rob are going to back off, or I'll kill her. I've studied Necromancy, so it will be simple for me to bring her back. Of course, that will mean that Doug will be forced to kill his lover."

Critic gasped. "You bastard."

"Indeed. Now, put the gun away, and we'll get on with it." Critic pocketed the gun, and Guy laughed, then sent him flying into the wall, knocking him senseless. "Well, that was easy. Rob, don't try anything stupid. You Cast, and I break her pretty neck." Rob knelt next to Critic, trying to rouse him.

Guy whispered in Layla's ear. "Time for you to do what I asked, Healer."

Layla nodded, then shut her eyes. "It might take a moment to recall the exact words...OK, got it." She began to speak, her voice echoing through the building.

"Life and Death are one and same,

And one shall never the other tame.

Life waits for all who trod the Way,

And Death is put off for one last day.

None can escape from Death's cold embrace,

As Life prepares for one last race!"

She wrenched free of Guy, turning to face him.

"Oh Death, oh Life, hear my Call!

Upon this man let your Wrath Fall!

Condemn him to Eternal Night,

And set all wrong things right!

If my life must pay the price,

I give it freely!

CAST THE SPELL!"

There was a hellacious flash of light and noise. Critic could hear someone screaming, but he wasn't sure who it was. He collapsed, hands over his eyes.

Spoony was the first to recover. He blinked, then cried out at the sight before them. Linkara and Rob saw it next. "Oh my gods..." Rob gasped out, and Critic turned.

"No..."

Layla was on her back, her arms and legs bent at impossible angles. Her eyes were closed, and Critic couldn't see her chest rising and falling. Her face was covered in blood.

Guy lay a few feet away, frozen, with a look of horror on his face.

Critic stumbled over to Layla, falling on his knees beside her. "Layla...baby...come on, wake up...Heal yourself...please...please don't leave me...you can't leave me...Layla, please..." He choked on a sob. "Please...give her back to me."

There was a sudden rush of air, and Death stood before him, a look of uncharacteristic sympathy on His face.

"You realize what you are asking?"

Critic nodded, not even bothering to hide the tears. "I do. And I know I can only ask it of you once. I love her...so much. Please, don't let her die like this."

Death nodded. "Fate's Student has Seen that she will be an asset in time to come. So Cast the Spell, Doug. I will not stop you."

Linkara gulped. "Umm..pardon me...Mr...umm...Reaper, but if Critic casts Revival, Layla will be a Ghoul."

Critic smiled. "I'm not casting Revival, I'm casting Resurrection."

"But I thought only Healers could..."

Death laughed. "I'm making an exception in his case." Linkara tried to process this.

"Oh. OK."

Death chuckled once more, and vanished.

Critic knelt by Layla, placing his hand on her forehead. He took a breath, then Cast the Spell. There was another flash, and Critic shut his eyes as negative images were printed on his retinas. They flew open seconds later when he heard the most wonderful sound in the world.

"Doug?"

"Layla!" He pulled her into his arms, kissing her with such passion that her toes curled. Linkara and Rob politely stared at the wall. Spoony whistled and catcalled.

Layla pulled away, smacking Doug. "You goddamned idiot! Why couldn't you just stay at the Palace! You..you..." She groaned, then laughed. "I guess you do have a noble streak."

Critic pulled her close. "No, I'm an idiot. I know it. But I couldn't just sit there."

Layla muttered something that sounded like "dummy" before pulling him into another kiss.

Linkara broke the somewhat awkward atmosphere. "Ummm...what happened to Guy?"

Layla smiled grimly. "I gave him what he wanted. Eternal Life. He'll never grow old or die."

"By turning him into a statue?" Rob asked, puzzled.

"The thing with Eternal Life is, you have to be very, very careful how you define the term. After all, what's more eternal than a statue?" Layla asked, a wicked grin on her face.

"Not much. Now, what say we get out of here and go have a few stiff drinks at the Pixel Palace?"

Rob's suggestion was met with great enthusiasm.

* * *

Later that night, while Layla was asleep, Critic slipped out of bed. He went into the kitchen, heading for the fridge, and his gaze fell on the flowerpot on the table. He gasped, then beamed in joy.

A white rose was blooming.


End file.
